


Take me back to the night we met

by mischief_managed_7



Series: Every minute [3]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Cancer, Chemotherapy, Hurt/Comfort, Sick!Isak, guru!Eskild, oh look it's another installment 3 years later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23265397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischief_managed_7/pseuds/mischief_managed_7
Summary: Isak's in treatment, and not doing too well. Eskild sits through the worst of it with him and tells him a story to help him fall asleep.
Relationships: Eskild Tryggvason & Isak Valtersen
Series: Every minute [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/672560
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	Take me back to the night we met

It's Friday night, and Eskild stayed behind for a beer that turned into quite a few more after work, so he's moderately tipsy when he steps into the flat. He tries to delicately toe his shoes off, but one of them ends up somehow banging on the mirror that hangs by their front door. He cringes, but nothing stirs within the flat. Linn went to visit her parents for the weekend and Noora moved out a few weeks ago, but Isak should definitely home since he just finished a round a chemo today - maybe he's asleep? Vowing to be quieter, Eskild shrugs off his coat and tiptoes into the living room. The blinds are closed and the lights are off - no sign of life. He makes his way into the kitchen, pulling a glass out of the cabinet, breathing a sigh of relief when it doesn't jostle the other ones. He chugs the first glass and refills it before heading back past Isak's closed door, and into his own bedroom. He closes the door, then collapses onto his bed triumphantly. He almost falls asleep right then and there, spread eagle on top of the sheets, still dressed and with the light one, but a weird noise coming from the bathroom wakes him up.

He debates for an instant whether he should get up, then remembers Isak just had treatment. And indeed, there he is: kneeling by the toilet in his underwear, hunched forward and retching. Eskild gives a brief knock on the open door and squats down by the younger boy. He pats him on the back, and his skin feels both clammy and cold. Judging by the fact that Eskild didn't hear him make his way to the bathroom, he must have been there for a while. Finally, the vomiting eases up, and Isak shakily moves over to sit with back against the wall. Still without speaking, Eskild takes off his sweater and drapes it around his shivering shoulders. He fills one of the glasses by the sink and hands it to him.

"Just like when we first met," he jokes weakly, "Some things never change. My basement's still free if you want."

This gets a weak smile from Isak, but his breathing is still harsh and heaving, there are some tears pooling in his eyes. He explained a while ago that this just happens when he throws up, so Eskild just hands him some toilet paper to clean himself up without commenting. But his heart breaks just a little when Isak's eyes meet his and he just looks so tired and scared.

"You're okay," he says, squeezing his knee, "I promise you're okay."

Isak nods, "God, I'm a mess."

And he is, with his threadbare sweatpants, beanie, Even's tee-shirt, and Eskild's sweater - so Eskild just nods back and chuckles, "Don't worry, I knew what I was getting into when I picked up a drunk, crying kid outside a gay bar and brought him home. Shit, that sounds bad put like that."

"It's worse if you say you put him your basement," Isak adds.

"Hey! You give what you've got - and it had a mattress." They both laugh, then sit in silence for a few seconds.

Eskild takes in Isak's appearance: sitting on the cold bathroom tiles, still shivering, with his eyes half closed, and skinnier, he swears, than the last time he saw him before his chemo three days ago.

"Come on," he decides, clapping his hands onto his thighs for emphasis, "It's time to go back to bed. You'll catch your death here. Do you think you'll be doing any more puking or are you good for tonight?"

"Judging by how my Friday night has been going so far, I'm going to say it's not over yet," Isak mutters.

"Fine, I'll get you a bucket then. Your sheets probably need to changed anyway," Eskild adds with a raised eyebrow.

Isak rolls his eyes, but accepts Eskild hand. He pulls himself up slowly, but when he is finally standing, he's paler than a sheet and shakier than ever.

"You okay?" Eskild can't help himself but ask.

Isak shakes his head, "Let's just go."

The few meters back to his room seem to take ages, and when he finally collapses on his bed, both of them just sit there without talking. 

"I'll go get a bucket," Eskild says after a moment, "Also, you better change your shirt, it's not so clean anymore," he adds, tossing Isak a clean one from his closet on his way out.

He comes back with a bucket and a hot water bottle. "Linn always uses it when she's on her period, so I figured it might help?"

"Worth a try," shrugs Isak, now buried under the blankets but still shaking like a leaf.

Eskild walks over to the bed and hands him the hot water bottle, after setting the bucket down on the floor. He pats the blankets awkwardly, "Well, good night then."

It feels weird, leaving him there, sick, and cold, and alone, when he knows that Isak has trouble sleeping on the best of days. So he's almost relieved when, instead of saying goodbye, Isak asks, "Wait, could you stay? Just until I fall asleep. Please."

"Sure," Eskild answers quickly, sitting down on the bed, "Do I sing a song or something?"

"Maybe just talk? About anything, I don't mind, I just... I just want to stop thinking about all of this," he says, pointing at himself, and the bucket. 

"Okay," he says, making himself comfortable lying down on top of the blankets, "Okay, but I'm gonna need my sweater back if I'm here for a while."

Isak points at a pile of bunched up clothes on the floor, on top of which Eskild can just make out his sweater.

"I'm going to try and ignore that this happened," he says pointedly as he picks it up, "But okay. Close your eyes, young Isak, because I'm going to tell you a story." 

"The year is 2006, I'm ten years old, and it's hottest goddamn summer. And, since my parents are both working and we live in a small town, I'm basically left free to roam around during the day as long as I'm back in time for dinner. So, of course, I spend my days down by this small lake, where all the other kids are too. I have a few friends I hang out with, but my really good friend left for summer, and some of the other boys don't like me too much, so I also spend a lot of time alone. Until this one kid shows up. His name is Morten, he's visiting his grandmother for the summer, and basically as soon as we meet, I just feel like the sun shines out of his very ass."

Eskild takes a breath, and turns his head to look at Isak. His eyes are closed, and his breathing has slowed, but he mumbles, "Keep going." So Eskild does. 

"I'm assuming you also had crushes as a kid, Isak, so you know how it feels. Like you're on top of the world, just you and him, and everything else fades into the background. All summer long, we would spend the day at the lake, swimming, picking strawberries, talking, drawing,... He was great at that, just like Even. He even drew me, once, and I think I still have it somewhere, probably at my parents'. Anyway, the summer goes by, and the other kids pick on us a little bit probably, but we don't care. We're just doing our thing. I think deep down, I already know why they're picking on us, and why spending time with Morten feels better than hanging out with literally anyone else in the world, but I don't think about it too much. Eventually, it's the last week of the holidays, and he's about to leave - he has to go back to Trondheim and get ready to go back to school. So, on his last night there, we invite him and his family over for dinner, because our parents have also gotten to know each other. And, after dinner, we make this awesome campfire in the backyard. We stay out late, so late that it actually starts to get a little dark. The adults are drinking wine at the table, and we're just sitting there, staring at the flames and the marshmallows we're cooking. All summer long, we talked and talked, but now there's this kind of silence, until all of the sudden, he says, 'You'll write to me, when school starts?' And of course, I just answer, yes, of course, completely earnestly, and I think he knows that, but he still asks, 'Promise?', and I say, yes, promise, and to seal the pact he takes out this pocket knife his dad gave him a few days before and he writes our names onto a piece of wood, then we throw it into the fire, because he saw it in a movie. The next morning he left."

"So, did you?" Isak asks without even opening his eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did write. And he wrote back, at first. Eventually, the time between letters grew longer and longer, and the letters shorter, because it had just been so long since we had seen each other. I mean, sometimes, he would come back to visit his grandmother for a few days for holidays or something like that, but it was always short and never the same as that summer. But when I was sixteen, I think it had been at least nine months since we had written, maybe even a year, I got this letter in the mail. He was going up to his family's cabin close by with some friends for Fall break, and he wanted me to join. I said yes, because even though it had been six years, thinking about him still gave me this nice, warm feeling in my stomach, and also because by then I didn't have many friends, and I knew exactly why.

When I got to the cabin, it was him and these three other guys. I wish I could say he was different with them than alone, because that happens a lot with teenagers, but the truth is that I didn't actually know what he was like at all, even alone. They had brought beers, and weed, and a ton of video games, and that's kind of all we did for four days. I didn't mind too much at first, because it was nice to be included in these hallmark teenager activities for once. But by the second day I was kind of fed up with their humor. I tried to tell myself that they were just joking around, that they didn't mean it - and they never directed it at me, particularly. They just called everyone, including each other, gay all the time. It was fine, whatever. But it was just a constant awareness that I didn't fit in - here, or at school, or anywhere, it felt like.

Finally, on the last night, all of them got drunk way too early, and passed out on the couch by 9PM, except for Morten. So we just sat in the kitchen for the rest of the night, just smoking, and listening to some music, and eating the last of our food. And I think that somewhere around 1AM, I just blurted it out. Just straight up said, 'Morten, I'm gay.' It wasn't the first time I said it out loud, but it wasn't easy yet, either. He just blew out the smoke he had been holding in, and said, 'I know.' We went to bed not long after that. The next day, when we separated at the train station, because they were going to Trondheim and I was going home, he held his fist out and said, 'Keep in touch.' I said I would, I even said, 'Promise,' as a joke."

Eskild paused, but this time Isak didn't stir. He waited a little longer, watching his chest rise and fall a few times to make sure he really was asleep. Then he kept going, whispering the story now, as if to himself.

"But when I sent a letter, he never answered. He didn't answer either when I sent him a Facebook message, or a text. I tried to tell myself that it didn't mean anything, that we hadn't actually talked in years before he invited me to the cabin... He wished me happy birthday, a few years ago. I guess either he'd forgotten what happened, or it was his way to say sorry. So now, I wish him happy birthday, too."

Slowly, he got up from the bed. "Good night, Isak."

He was drinking coffee in the kitchen and scrolling on his phone the next morning when Isak walked in, looking marginally better after a night's sleep.

"Morning, coffee?"

"No, thanks, I take tea these days."

"Oh, right, I keep forgetting since you usually live on the stuff."

"Don't remind me," Isak groaned, "Thanks for staying with me,last night. It helped."

Eskild gave a mock bow, "At your service, it's my pleasure as your guru, young Isak."

Isak rolled his eyes, "Sure. I was wondering though, did you keep in touch finally? I think I fell asleep before you finished."

"Sure," Eskild answered, making himself busy with the kettle, "We still wish each other happy birthday every year."

"Oh, nice, I'm glad."

"Yeah, me too."

**Author's Note:**

> This took an unexpected turn while I was writing it, and Eskild's story turned out much longer than expected, but I kind of like it? If y'all are still into Skam fanfics in 2020 (like I am obviously), I have an idea for another installment that's more Isak-centric though.


End file.
